Sea Cruise
by Simon920
Summary: Sometimes it's not smooth sailing when dealing with the Atlanteans.
1. Chapter 1

T

Warnings: none

Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.

Archive: Fine, but if you want it, please ask first.

Feedback: Hell, yes.

**Sea Cruise**

The Queen Mary the Second is the largest cruise ship in the world and one of the newest. It sails the trans-Atlantic route from New York to Southampton a large part of the year and is considered, by the more sophisticated traveling public, to be the only civilized way to get from one continent to another.

Bruce Wayne usually traveled on one of the corporate jets, but this time he had been persuaded by both Alfred and Dick that if he didn't take a small break he would likely implode, go insane and take them with him. Preferring to avoid that, they had insisted on the time off and so, unable or unwilling to fight the both of them, he was sitting on his private balcony, impatiently ignoring the view.

They'd been at sea two days, the fax machine was down and his computer wasn't able to connect for some reason. Dick was along, mostly to make sure that he actually made a stab at relaxing, but had his own luxury suite down the hall and made it clear last night that he would be spending the evening entertaining and expected to sleep in until at least noon. Bruce was in hell.

Bored—a feeling he loathed with every cell in his body, he opted for a stroll to explore the ship, getting only a hundred yards before he was accosted by a woman and her daughter. They were intent on having dinner with him and promised the possibility of a threesome or even a four-way later. Pleading a seasick stomach, he dodged that one, but barely.

Three more days to go until they docked. God. He settled back on his balcony with his favorite Proust.

Around two that afternoon, with still no appearance by Dick, he was browsing through the ship's library, hoping for something light to read—maybe Plato would be fun, when he felt something odd in the movement of the ship. It wasn't anything obvious, but there was definitely something. It was a small hitch in the movement, almost as if a large car had run over an already dead squirrel in the road, just a slight bump. In moments he felt the vibration of the engines change as the ship slowed. Clearly something was up.

The ship was stopping. No ship stops in the middle of the ocean on a clear and sunny day unless there's a reason and those reasons usually mean something's wrong. Mechanical trouble, man overboard, collision—something was up and not in a good way.

He heard some commotion near the port bow, down by the waterline, saw a lifeboat being lowered and ambled his way forward to find out what was going on but was stopped by a ship's steward. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne, but we're asking the passengers not to go past this point for a few minutes. Captain's orders."

Nodding, Bruce paused and looked over the side where he saw one of the ship's lifeboats and what seemed to be some kind of a ship maybe a sub of some kind, clearly in trouble—Christ, had they run over the thing? How could something like this happen? Hadn't the ship line installed radar, sonar and radios? And how many people were injured? A ship the size of the Queen would make a twisted hulk out of almost anything afloat, for God's sake.

Bruce saw an old golf partner about twenty yards ahead and carefully pressed his way past the steward, the man not having further nerve to oppose him. Didn't Mr. Wayne own thirty percent of the company? He knew the Captain was in charge, but didn't owner trump captain? He wasn't about to risk his retirement on it.

"George, old man, what's the word? Captain forget to signal a turn or something?"

"Seems that way. There's some kind of ship caught under the bow; they're lowering lifeboats and I heard one of the officers calling for every member of the medical staff they have. This isn't looking good for us getting back home on time and I have meetings all day Tuesday. Bollocks if they're delayed."

Bruce nodded. Bollocks, indeed. Looking down he thought he recognized the design of the damaged vessel—double bollocks, in fact.

"Bruce, have you heard anything?" Dick was finally there, his hair still wet from a shower or swim.

"It looks like we hit another boat, but that's all I have so far, that and there may be injuries."

"Anything we can do?"

"'Doubt it, the crew seems to have it under control."

Dick looked over the side of the ship, the wreckage was clearly visible jammed under the bow. "Holy crap." It was said under his breath but loud enough for Bruce to hear.

"What?"

"That's an Atlantean ship."

Just as Bruce had suspected.

* * *

"I don't see any reason for us to show up in uniform, Bruce. It would raise more problems than it would solve."

"Agreed, but let's stick around here." Bruce and Dick were as close to the ship's bridge as they could get—being Bruce Wayne had its advantages. "Captain? Forgive me for interrupting, but that's an odd looking boat down there—I mean odd, even accounting for it being under our hull, don't you think? I saw the Atlantean flag once over at the UN and I'd swear that's what's painted on the side down there—goodness gracious! An Atlantean boat and I'll bet it's filled with mermen and mermaids—wouldn't that be something? No one was hurt, were they? I thought I saw some doctors on their way over there, or was I mistaken? Goodness, that would be just awful."

The Captain, way too busy for this sort of thing, barely managed to be polite and that only because this was Wayne standing here and he happened to own over twenty percent of the company. "I'm afraid that they have requested some medical aid, so yes, I'm assuming they may have some injuries."

"Oh, my lord. Maybe you should move the injured to one of the swimming pools—do you think that may help?"

The Captain paused, momentarily stunned. "Perhaps…" Even Dick gave Bruce a look for that remark—ditz Playboy was one thing, moron was another.

One of the ship's officers appeared beside them, slightly out of breath. "Captain? The initial reports are at least four dead and another dozen injured on the other ship; but those numbers may go up. A couple of their people are on the way up here to speak with you, should be here in just a moment."

"No injuries to any of our people? Good. Do these fellows even speak English?" The man only had time to nod when the men were on the bridge, blood from a minor looking head wound dripping down the side of the lead man's face. He appeared to be in his early to mid twenties, tall, well-built and dark haired. He had one of his own people with him and both men were clearly angry, though they were holding it in check, at least for now.

"Captain, an explanation?" The voice was soft spoken and accented, but easily understandable.

"You have my deepest apologies but your ship didn't register on either our radar or our sonar, sir. I know this doesn't begin to make up for your losses but you have to believe that we never…"

"What I understand is that your ship was running at flank speed, that you failed to respond to radio hails and that you ran over our vessel in broad daylight while it was running in clear view on the surface. So far four…" The other man touched his arm and whispered something in his ear, causing his face to harden. "Five of our crew are dead and more than a dozen are in immediate need of medical assistance—unfortunately, this includes our ship's surgeon."

The captain was taken aback by the men; Atlanteans were still pretty unknown but were usually considered little more than oddities. They were treated, when they were treated at all, like children and assumed to be little higher on the intelligence scale than seals—harmless, uneducated and probably spent most of their time surfing, sunbathing or singing on seaside rocks while luring lonely sailors to their deaths. To have them standing on his deck, articulate and intelligent, reading him the riot act wasn't something he was prepared for. "Sir, I assure you we're trying to give you all the help we can."

The men looked unimpressed. "As you've managed to destroy our radio, perhaps you'd be so good as to allow us the use of yours?" The words were polite, the manner frosty.

"Of course, we'll make anything aboard our ship available to you. Mr. Smythe will show you where the radio room is."

As they left, Dick pulled Bruce aside, "Why didn't Garth acknowledge us?"

Bruce raised an eye-brow and shook his head, wondering the same thing; he didn't know either, but this wasn't good no matter how you looked at it. Below them the rescue work continued, while the ship's passengers stood at the rail taking pictures both with cameras and cell phones. There was no way to contain this, none at all. The story was already being flashed around the world.

They watched as several crew members of the badly damaged ship were brought aboard on stretchers, wheeled to the sick bay with other, presumably armed, Atlanteans following and keeping a close eye while others guarded their ship, making sure no one went aboard uninvited. Ten minutes later, still on the deck near the bridge. Bruce and Dick saw Garth approach the Captain again.

"We've contacted our people and help will be here in a few hours. In the meanwhile I'd like to check on our injured myself." His manner was that of barely contained fury behind a veneer of professionalism. Nonchalantly and without warning he nodded at Bruce. "Mr. Wayne, a surprise to see you here and this is…?" He indicated Dick, pretending he didn't know him for the benefit of onlookers.

"My former ward, Richard Grayson. I'm sorry we're meeting again under these circumstances, Your Majesty." Bruce explained, in answer to the Captain's questioning look, "This is King Garth of Shayeris, one of the—what term do you use?"

"It's one of our city-states, Mr. Wayne."

"Yes, of course. I knew that. Captain, pretty exciting to have real, live royalty aboard, isn't it? I've had the pleasure of meeting the King before and he's a swell fellow; did you know he's almost single-handedly responsible for opening trade between Atlantis and the surface? Goodness, just last week he was talking with our President and the Prime Minister over in England about us all signing contracts and treaties—imagine that! I'm sure you two will get along like a barn on fire!" It seemed like a good idea to let the captain know just whom he was dealing with here.

The Captain was taking this in, becoming more and more aware of the size of the problem now squarely in his lap, despite Wayne's bizarre reaction of this being an unexpected pool party of some kind. "Indeed. Your Majesty, please, if there's anything further we can do to help you or any members of your crew, I'll see to it personally that it's done, I assure you. If you need anything, anything at all, please just ask." They'd not only run over a vessel running on he surface on a clear and sunny day, but it was a foreign ship with almost half a dozen fatalities and was containing a diplomat King, no less. This was, without doubt, the worse thing he could conceive happening, short of the loss of his ship.

"Clearly there's little to be done for the crew members who've been killed and the rest of our injured will have to be entrusted to the care of your medical staff until our own assistance arrives. I'd like to have the remainder of our crew checked by your medical personnel for injuries and shock. In addition, perhaps arrangements can be made for our people to be fed—our ship's galley was destroyed, along with our food supplies and our last meal was almost twenty-four hours ago."

"Of course; I'll have our Master Chef prepare whatever you wish."

Garth—the King—turned to his assistant and quietly gave orders in their own language, one almost no one on the surface could begin to translate. With a nod, the man turned to do whatever he'd been charged with. "Mr. Wayne, I'm sorry that we're meeting again under these circumstances, but perhaps we might take a few minutes together once I'm satisfied with the condition of my crew."

Startled, Bruce recovered quickly. "Of course, whenever you're ready. My cabin would be private, if that would be all right with you." Bruce turned to the Captain; "My company and the Atlantean government are discussing a trade agreement; that's why we know each other, you see. It's almost ready, in fact." Bruce looked like he'd just told his parents that the puppy was finally house broken and wanted approval. The Captain nodded.

"I'm anxious to see my crew—if someone could show me to your sick-bay?" An Atlantean, obviously a guard, was at Garth's side and not likely to stray too far from his charge.

"Of course. My first officer tells me that your ship has been stabilized on the surface and that our medical staff have begun checking your remaining crew for any other injuries. Our food staff are at your disposal as well as several empty cabins which have been allocated for your use. May I accompany you down to make sure that everything is being done to your standards for your injured, sir?"

With some reluctance Garth nodded. "Mr. Wayne, if it's all right with you, I'll meet with you as soon as I've checked on our people." Garth rolled his right shoulder as if trying to work a out kink or something.

"Sure, sounds good to me. Are you all right, Your Majesty?"

"Fine, thank you for asking. Captain, the sick bay?"

As they left Dick leaned close to Bruce and semi-whispered, "I'm betting this is more than just an accident at sea; what do you think's really going on here?"

"I think we'll find out as soon as Garth gets to the cabin to discuss that trade contract."

"What trade contract?"

"Exactly."

Almost an hour later Bruce and Dick were waiting in their bi-level suite when Garth arrived, fresh from visiting the sick bay and clearly sobered by the experience, his guard stationed outside the closed door. He accepted a bottled water and sat down, obviously stressed. "Please turn that music up; I don't know who's listening. Two more men have died since they've been brought on board. Another three may not survive." He shook his head, upset, furious.

The three men sat around a small coffee table, the music loud and having to lean in to understand one another. "Garth, what were you doing here? Why were you running on the surface like that?"

"Arthur's guards were trailing us, we thought it would be best to have witnesses if they attacked but they ran as soon as the collision happened."

Bruce glanced out the large picture windows out to the private balcony. "You think this ship was actively involved in the accident—you think it may have been on purpose?"

"It's too early to say, but I'd hardly rule it out."

"But why didn't the bridge pick you up on radar or sonar?"

"We have shielding which blocks both. And we didn't see this thing because we've had sabotage aboard our ship in the last few days. We were lucky we were able to run at flank, let alone see what was around us."

A simple statement with tremendous consequences both for the surface military and governments. It meant the Atlanteans could come and go at will, without detection.

Dick broke the brief silence as they digested the possibilities. "But—what's going on?"

"Intercity war' Poseidonis and Shayeris declared open hostilities almost a month ago."

"You think Arthur may have something to do with this?"

Garth almost smiled. "You don't think this ship really missed us running on the surface, do you? Our ship is over fifty fathoms long—over three hundred feet. It's mid-afternoon on a sunny day and the ocean is almost flat calm—a ten year old in a row boat could have avoided us."

"Meaning?"

"The Captain or one of the officers was likely paid off, or that would be my guess, at any rate."

"But why?" This sounded like a stretch to Bruce. He'd known, hell—everyone in the hero community knew that Garth and Arthur weren't close, to understate the case, but Arthur resorting to what amounted to attempted murder? It seemed unlikely.

"Because he needs me dead so that he put one of his own operatives on my throne, removing any threat from Shayeris. It's obvious."

"This mess is the result of Atlantis' internal politics?" Bruce couldn't believe this. Incredible.

"Essentially, yes, but it's complicated because there are over three dozen surface nations which are trying to either buy or steal out technology, form alliances, start trade...legally or otherwise. Any of them could have a hand in this."

Dick was equally incredulous. "So what are you going to do? You said that there are some ships on their way here to help you—is that true?"

Garth sat in one of the easy chairs. "Yes and no. There are a couple of ships coming but the message was indistinct so I'm not sure who they are or what their alliance is."

"So this could be a trap for you."

"Or not, but yes, the possibility exists."

Bruce let out a sigh. "Do you want help? The JLA is always on call, you know that."

"I need to know the situation better before I commit to something like that. I have some of my people finding out what they can and I should have more information shortly. I also point out that Arthur is a JLA member and I'm not. I'd question what side they'd be on, to be honest."

"…That depends on the facts. We'd have to see for ourselves what the situation is… I'm not completely clear here—is this just a power play or is there some other agenda? Is Arthur trying to usurp your throne? Is he trying to eliminate a possible rival or is he just nuts?"

Garth gave a mirthless smile which didn't reach anywhere near his eyes. "That's part of what we need to find out but I assume that it's some sort of power grab and money equals power. Whomever can sell our technology first, gets the best deal and the most return. I'm in active negotiations; kill me and Shayeris is set back at least by months, possibly longer."

Dick opened another bottle of water and handed it to Garth. "Did you have any warning?"

"Some hints, but nothing concrete. I suspected he might try something but we didn't know where or when or what form it might take. Luckily some of my best men are with me. Unluckily, some of them are dead."

There was a discrete knock at the door. Opening it, Bruce saw that Atlantean guard or assistant or whatever he was who was staying close, "It's for you." Garth went over to the man, speaking quickly in their own language, nodding as the man closed the door behind him, off on some mission or other.

"Two more injured were finally extracted from the wreckage, one more of our men have died." He sat down heavily, clearly upset. "You do realize that this means internal war between cities for Atlantis and could potentially expand the surface."

Dick stared, though he wasn't all that surprised. This could be construed as an attack, if they wanted to believe it was premeditated. It might even be true. "Find out what's happening first, okay?"

"Of course, but at this point I assume nothing." He sipped his water. "The men who've been killed aren't just standard crewmen—they were scientists and specialists, the top people in their fields who were taking part in the negotiations with me, their loss was designed to hurt my city—to hurt me. This wasn't an accident."

"Garth, you don't know that."

He gave Dick a hard look. "Bruce, this might be a good time to contact Diana; she has influence at the UN, I suspect that may become important in the next few hours."

There was another knock at the door, the Captain came in, nodding at the men already seated. "Excuse me, Your Majesty,"—he hesitated over the tile, likely unsure if it were proper or not and not wanting to cause any further insult or problem. "We've had messages from both the US Navy and NATO, asking if any help is needed."

Atlantis didn't have any official diplomatic relations with any surface nations; their resources, trade and inventions were a source of intense speculation and probably represented huge fortunes to be made with the right timing and planning if deals could be struck. Of course surface nations wanted to help them if they were in need; the possibility of new technologies and the money to be made from them was too good to let pass.

"Thank you, perhaps a naval ship or two might be able to stand by, that would be helpful while we wait for our own people." And to make sure that whatever Atlantean ship was supposed to be coming to their aid really was there to help and not cause more trouble. Outside witnesses might be useful if anything happened once Arthur's ships got here and Garth was sure that they were also on their way.

"If you'd like to rest, the suites have been prepared for you and your crew, Sir."

"Thank you, Captain, but I believe I may be of more use on my own ship and I'm also anxious to get check back with your sick bay. Few of my people speak English and I fear that may be a hindrance to your personnel. If you'll excuse me?" The other men in the cabin nodded, Garth left, followed by the Captain.

Dick met Bruce's eyes. "Holy crap."

"I'd say that's an understatement."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

Using his laptop, complete with state of the art encryption, Bruce agreed to Dick's suggestion and sent a personal message to Arthur, hoping against hope that there was a rational explanation for this mess. With any luck at all, maybe the collision was a simple accident and nothing more. "Of course, the odds of that are roughly those of a snowball's in he..."

The message bounced back as undeliverable, as did three subsequent tries and four different e-mail addresses.

Next he tried a message to Diana, currently posted to the UN in New York.

"No, I don't know anything. Of course we've been informed that there was a problem and that there are fatalities and injured but nothing about how it may have happened or who might be behind it—if anyone is behind it."

"Are you sure that the intell isn't just classified?"

"No, I'm not certain but since I'm on the committee I'd say it's unlikely that I wouldn't have full access."

"Understood. Please let me know if anything comes in though, or if you get through to Arthur."

"If it's cleared for release, of course."

"Diana..."

"Oh, don't start with me." The line was cut and Bruce refrained from any comments about 'women', for which Dick was grateful.

"Anything from the Titans?"

"No, nothing, they're as far in the dark as we are." He stood up, stretching his back to ease the tension. "But it's not like Garth and Arthur get along, right? It could be a power grab and it could be personal with those two."

"I don't think Arthur would..."

"Yeah, right—remember that time he was pissed about something and attacked Garth with a hunting knife? He practically destroyed his arm."

"That was years ago."

"Nothing's changed, he's still a loose cannon."

Dick was right and they both knew it. If provoked, there was no telling what Arthur was capable of doing.

"There's another possibility we've haven't considered; what if this is a set up?"

"Excuse me?" Dick turned back from looking at the wrecked ship still caught partially under the Queen Mary and visible from their balcony. It looked like a car after a really bad crash, crumpled and torn. In fact it was probably lucky to still even be afloat after being run over by the massive cruise ship.

"Atlantis is practically the definition of xenophobia, almost everything about them and their country is classified or secret. Have you ever tried to get Garth to talk about the place? I mean really talk about it; how their government functions, what their GNP is, how advanced their technology really is, what their agenda and priorities are, whether or not they have military capabilities?"

"Well, no, but what makes you suspect that means anything? Seriously, they've lived isolated for thousands of years, maybe it just reticence at this stage."

"You think they may just be shy?" Even for Bruce the sarcasm was thick.

"I think it may be possible that they want to take things slowly until they're comfortable dealing with the surface and..." Dick was interrupted by the cabin phone ringing, which he answered. "Hello?..Yes, of course. Thank you." He hung up with "That was the Captain, he said that he and Garth will be here in a minute and the two of them want to have a talk with us."

"That's odd, why would they want to talk with us?—I'm idiot Bruce Wayne and you're my mini-me."

Dick gave Bruce a look without comment. "I guess we'll know soon enough." Within seconds the expected knock sounded, Dick opening the door. "Please, come in. Are there any updates about what's happening?"

Leaving Garth's guard in the corridor, the two men entered, sitting on opposite sides of the long couch, Garth reaching for a bottle of water. The Captain's nerves revealed themselves as he blurted, "Other than half of the passengers texting everyone under the sun and the other half convinced that we're all about to be blown up, no."

"Unless, Captain, you discount the additional death of two of my crewmen."

The Captain's face colored, as he retreated, suitably chastised. "Of course and I apologize, Your Majesty, that was unforgivable of me and you're right."

"How many of your people have..."

"Died, Mr. Wayne? Eight with another twenty-three injured. Our ship is being kept afloat with pontoons at the moment and is dead in the water. We expect three Atlantean ships within the next two hours."

"Friends or foe?" Bruce wasn't liking how this scenario was starting to look.

"That remains to be seen."

"Garth, uh—forgive me, Sir; is there a chance that the Queen Mary might be caught in the middle of some kind of attack?"

"I wouldn't rule it out as a possibility, Mr. Grayson."

The Captain's face now went pale. "But, but this is an unarmed passenger vessel...we have no means to defend ourselves and, with your ship caught under our bow, no way to escape. This is a violation of every maritime law on the books and..."

Garth was less than impressed, or so it seemed. "I suggest we wait and see, Captain. It may be that nothing untoward happens when they get here."

"And it may be that we'll be sunk, young man." Captain Reynolds forgot his protocol for the moment.

Garth seemed to simply accept that it could happen with complete calm. "Well, yes, that possibility does exist."

"But surely there's something you can do to diffuse the situation, there are women and children on board, over four thousand people and you can't just sit there and wait for a damn torpedo to blast them to the depths—for the love of God." This was beyond a simple hi-jack attempt or pirates, this was being caught in a possible shooting situation between factions of a foreign nation. He needed to get the passengers and crew off the ship, break out the life boats...

Garth's response was mild, "We don't use torpedoes, Captain." Oddly, he seemed almost amused by the man's near panic. "And if it's any help to you, I've little doubt that we'll be able to defend ourselves, should it become necessary." He turned his attention to his nominal host. "Now, Mr. Wayne, if you have a few minutes, might we discuss the current state of our recent conversations in Gotham?"

"Yes, of course, Your Majesty. Captain, if you'll excuse us...?"

The man couldn't believe that he was being dismissed as though he was a cabin boy. "You're going to talk _business _with possibly hostile ships approaching us and set to arrive any time?"

Garth gave him an evaluating look and seemed to find him wanting. "I'm sure that we'll be fine. Now, if you don't mind, Captain...?"

Three minutes later, on the bridge, Reynolds complained to his first officer, "Incredible, absolutely incredible. The man has ice water in his veins. Damn cold fish."

* * *

Other than the on-board tension rising, things stayed as they were as the waiting game continued, finally reaching a peak as three ships were spotted approaching in formation from the starboard beam. They were running on the surface, crew members on deck and identifying flags flying. They took up position in front of the bow and on either side.

Garth, his own guards plus several of his staff along with the Queen Mary's chief officers were on the flying bridge to observe the arrival. There were quiet murmurs among the Atlantean men, some obvious nervousness—carefully hidden—and no interaction with their surface compatriots.

The rails were crowded with frightened and curious passengers. Several announcements over the ship's loud speakers offered reassurance, with varying degrees of success.

Then a single and very loud warning shot was fired over the top of the ship, terrifying the passengers whose screams could easily be heard across the water on the foreign ships.

"Your Majesty, are we about to die?" Captain Reynolds tried for a light; touch, it failed.

"We'll know soon enough. If you'll excuse me?" He removed what looked like a variation of some kind of a cell phone device from a pocket and spoke into it with quiet authority, waiting for a receiving an answer in his own language. Unable to know what was being said, all the surface folks could do was gauge the reactions of their guests.

They revealed little.

After several long minutes Garth ended his private conversation, gave instructions to his own people which they acknowledged with curt, respectful nods and setting to whatever they'd been told to do, disappearing down the steep staircase to the lower decks. His manner thoughtful, he turned to the other people beside him.

"The ships are each from a different city-state, Poseidonis, Shayeris and Tritonis. One is mine—from my city, one is King Orin's and the other belongs to a group of isolationists. They're saying that they'll help us make temporary repairs and get back to one of our own ports."

"No more threats?"

Garth managed a small smile. "Not to you, no—so long as you don't do anything to in any way impede their efforts."

Dick caught what Garth wasn't saying. "They're threatening you and your crew, aren't they?"

"We all have our agenda's don't we, Mr. Grayson? I and my crew wish to get home safely and I doubt that this is the best way to achieve seeing our families again. The Tritons would greatly prefer that we don't get back and Orin's ship is saying that they're simply observers and will bear witness to whatever happens next."

"You may tell them that I've been in contact with this ship's owners who have contacted our own State Department. Two US Navy ships are on the way and expected within an hour and have launched planes to overfly the area, we're also being filmed by military satellites. The ships are already in range should their weapons be needed for our protection."

Bruce and Dick weren't surprised; it was the only real prudent response to something like this. Garth accepted the announcement with a real smile. "Why Captain, good for you. I'll let them know."

"You may also tell them that this incident is being broadcast, live, around the world."

This brought a delighted laugh. "Even better! Then your fine ship should escape unharmed but, unfortunately, all this means for us is that as soon as we submerge, they'll enact whatever they actually have in mind."

He paused for just a moment. "Unless"—he pulled out his communicator again and spoke with authority in Atlantean to whomever was on the other end—"I've told them that we've made arrangements to head to the nearest surface dry dock for repairs and that they're welcome to accompany us to Boston."

The message was sent, the people on board the other ships weren't happy but had little choice but to either accept it or fire on a disabled ship and a crowded and unarmed passenger ship on world-wide television.

"They've offered their assistance in freeing out vessel from under the Queen Mary, Captain. They've also offered their help in patching the holes the removal of our hull from under yours will leave in your plating. I've accepted and told them that as soon as the ships are separated we'll need a tow to Boston. And we need to call Boston harbor to let them know that we're coming as well as our ETA."

The Captain nodded, trying to smile at the minor lie. "I'll see to it."

"Thank you, sir." He turned back to Bruce. "This will take several hours, as soon as I check on my injured men, I think we should finish our discussion, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce nodded, hoping that what was really going on would be brought out.

Garth, accompanied by his personal guard, went down to the sick bay as Captain Reynold's tended to his own duties.

Bruce and Dick retired to their suite/cabin to wait. "You know what's happening, don't you, Bruce?"

"Not completely, no."

"That's a non answert—you knew about this, about Garth's involvement in this whole trade/technology thing with Atlantis, right?"

"Part of it, of course. Arthur and I have talked about the mutual advantages of open trade for over a year now and were starting to get into some serious negotiations. Garth's city joined in as well but all of it was very preliminary, nothing set and no real details or specifics."

"So what's _this _about?"

"As soon as Garth gets back we'll tell you as much as we know..."

That's when they heard the muffled explosion.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**  
Part Three**

The explosion came from deep within the ship.

Klaxons sounded.

Alarms bells clanged.

Passengers screamed.

There was a feeling of disruption, vibration and fragility at variance with the reinforced steel floors and bulkheads.

"Get into costume."

"No, Bruce, don't change; we can't explain Barman and Nightwing being on board."

"We can't do anything as ourselves." He was stripping off his shirt, shoes off, moving almost too fast to follow.

"We have to—stop and think. I'll go see where the explosion was and how badly damaged the ship is, you see what the official word is and call in whatever help we might need from the Justice League or whatever."

Bruce gave a single curt nod, Dick was right, at least for now. They left the stateroom at the same time, Dick to follow the chaos and Bruce to find someone in charge.

With no surprise, Dick found that some kind of likely bomb had gone off just inside the main door of the ship's sick bay, demolishing the small unit and killing at least four people inside, including the ship's doctor. "What can I do to help?"

"Get the hell out of the way."

He moved back into the corridor, allowing the crew to do their jobs containing the residual fires, clearing the smoke and debris, getting the dead and injured moved to safety. He grabbed a figure as it ran past, "Garth—what...?"

"It wasn't enough to attack our ship, they don't want any survivors." He was as close to distraught as Dick had seen him in the decade they'd known one another. "I'm sure, it had to be—analyze the explosive used, it will be Atlantean. I'm sure of it."

"From one of the other ships?"

He paused his efforts to get through for a moment. "You don't understand, the other crews have been contained on board their own ships, none of them were allowed on board the Queen; this had to have been done by either one of my own men of someone already here, a landsman working for, I don;t know...someone." A body was brought past them on a stretcher, body and face covered with a bloodied sheet. Garth took a second to pull back the fabric to see—"Gods, my first assistant." He looked up the hallway, trying to see through the still thick smoke, more stretchers were coming their way.

"I can help, I'm a paramedic..."

"No, Dick—go, you'll do more good pinpointing how this happened and who did it."

Dick nodded, Garth was right. He did what he could at the moment, looked for a blast pattern, location of the bomb, force of the explosive and the rest of the forensics he'd been taught from the time he was nine years old.

* * *

Back in their suite, Bruce was using his secured private phone, the one which used codes only known to the JLA, codes so classified that they were unknown to the CIA, Interpol and M-5. He was angry.

"You told me that there wouldn't be any action against unarmed civilians."

"'Change of plans."

"Not acceptable. I want a guarantee that this won't happen again."

The answer was a barely concealed and overly patient lesson from teacher to a backward student. "Surely by now you've come to understand that there are no guarantees in this line of work."

"I won't be involved if anyone else is killed."

"You sound like a petulant child, Bruce; it's unbecoming, as Alfred would say." The voice on the other end of the line hardened. "You agreed that this was the best way for things to work out the way we want. You committed to this and I expect you to fulfill your word—something you seem to hang importance on. Now, am I able to count on your help or is this conversation over?"

"Not until you assure me that this ship will make port without anything else happening."

The other voice sounded amused. "Or what?"

"Or I go to the press and stop you, cut off all negotiations, make sure that you and your followers won't be received in any governmental office, in any boardroom, in any university. I'll see to it that none of your ships will be able to dock in any port other than Third World and nations run by scum—hardly the image you're going to for."

"Bruce, you're starting to annoy me and that's not a good idea; do I really have to remind you of just whom you're dealing with?"

"No more than I have to remind you of the same thing. Do we understand each other?"

Resigned boredom. "Oh, fine. For now. Bring that ship into Boston, isn't that where you're all headed now? We'll talk again when you get there."

The line was cut.

"Jackass."

* * *

The passengers were panicked. Despite announcements to stay calm and head to their assigned lifeboats with their families or friends, life-jackets from their cabins ready, the reality was close to chaos as the smoke from the explosion filled several decks and corridors and hung over the ship before dissipating in the ocean air.

Dick did what he could to help the crew keep order, helping older passengers and young children who;d been separated from their parents to a place in the boats.

"Sir, do you know how to operate a winch?"

He nodded, he'd grown up with Batman.

"All right, the fellow who's supposed to be here hasn't arrived yet. When I say the word, let us down, nice slow and steady." Pause, "You_ do_ know how to do this, don't you?"

Dick nodded again, "Set the speed, make sure the cables are clear and balanced and push the green button, keeping an eye on the boat all the way down, ready to hit the stop button in case anything goes wrong—that about it?"

"Just about, yes, just be sure not to try for any speed records, this ship isn't sinking and there's no reason to scare people any more than they already are."

Below them the three Atlantean ships, as well as the damaged ship, the one still stuck under the bow, were plainly visible. The crews of the three new comers seeming to be standing by to offer whatever assistance they could, their crews either standing on their decks or swimming close by.

"Right then, let's get going." There were almost eighty passengers and crew aboard the lifeboat, a fully covered motorboat and a long way from the stereotype of an open rowboat or rubber raft. It was fully supplied with food, water and a well stocked first aid kit. The people would be fine for a while.

The winch started with a small jolt, causing a series of screams from inside the lifeboat, fading as she was lowered. When she was finally afloat her two man crew loosened the cables and, her engine started, she moved clear. Tied up to one of the Atlantean boats, she was out of harm's way, waiting for further instructions.

Dick moved down the line to the next lifeboat, repeating his help for a total of six before they were all away. Refusing to leave before he could find his guardian, he left the remaining crew and officers behind, returning below decks to see what the situation was down there.

"Garth—forgive me, Your Majesty, what's happening?"

"It was a double explosion, one just outside the door to the sick bay, one about ten feet inside. The outer bomb blocked the passageway so rescue personnel couldn't get through and the inner one basically..." He stopped to breathe and regain his composure. "There aren't any survivors."

Dick stared; Jesus. "How many?"

Garth shrugged. "I don't know, thirty, thirty-five?" Another deep breath and "They've evacuated the ship?"

"Just about everyone off; you should go, too."

"What about you?"

"I think Bruce would like for us to leave together." It was code; Batman and Nightwing wanted a chance to do a recon of the situation, gather forensic information about the bombs and, with any luck, be able to figure out who made and set them off. "And the tugs are almost here to take your ship in tow to Boston."

"Is this ship still sea-worthy?"

Dick nodded. "The damage is confined to this area and there aren't any problems with it being holed and it should be drivable. I'm guessing that they'll bring the passengers back on board soon."

"I need to know whatever is found about this."

"Of course."

"Is Bruce in contact with any of his old friends? They may have some ideas or be able to offer some sort of help."

More code. "I think he'll be calling them soon. Have you spoken to any of your people?"

"No, not aside from the ones who are here." They were moved away from the site of the ruined sick bay by some of the Queen's crewmen who were making sure any danger of fire was under control and so that the bodies could be gathered and stored for their families after they were identified.

In a quiet corner they could finally talk opening, Garth's personal guard standing a tactful several feet away, watching for any immediate threat. "No one from any of the other Atlantean ships were aboard. I think this was done by a member of the ship's crew."

"That doesn't make any sense, Garth—why would a British crewman set bomb on his own ship?" Before Garth could answer Dick shook his head. "Jesus, what am I saying? Pay someone enough money and you can get almost anything done."

"Meaning that there's someone working for whoever wants us stopped on board and will probably try again."

"Who do you think the real target is, you?"

"Maybe but there's no reason to kill almost three dozen people just to get to me unless whoever did this is trying to frame someone else and make things difficult of impossible regarding the work we're trying to do."

"What work, the treaties and the trade agreements? That doesn't sound like enough reason to murder these people and the people you've lost who were killed during the attack on your ship."

Garth breathed a laugh without any humor in it. "Don't be naïve, we're talking about billions. People will kill for a broken watch."

"Is that what this is really about, money to be made from those contracts and treaties?"

"Yes", but Garth hesitated a shade too long and Dick knew him too well to miss that he was hiding something.

The Queen's First Officer touched Garth's arm, a major breech of protocol which he let slide without comment, ignoring the look on his guard's face. "The Navy ships are just coming into our area and we've received word that the tugs will be here in a few hours. As soon as they've arrived we should have your damaged ship tied off and then she can make for Boston. Also there have been messages of support and offers of help from a number of countries and organizations; the Captain is holding them for you, sir."

Garth nodded his acknowledgment then added a soft 'Thank you'.

"Officer, the passengers, are they being brought back on board?"

"Yes, the order just went out and they should all be back within a couple of hours or so, Mr. Grayson and, forgive me for forgetting, Mr. Wayne asks if you would join him in your cabin."

"Go ahead, I have things to do here." Garth turned back to the destroyed sick bay, probably to help identify bodies.

* * *

"We'll find out as much as we can now without being obvious and as soon as the ship gets to Gotham we can work as Batman and Nightwing."

"Gotham? I thought we were headed for Boston."

"Garth's ship is going there, accompanied by the three other Atlantean ships. We're headed to Gotham as planned."

"You do know that Garth thinks that the bombs were panted by someone on this ship, right?"

Bruce unscrewed the top of a water bottle. "Garth's right."

"What a mess."

"...Yeah."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Four**

The Queen managed to sail under her own power but with the hull damage she was forced to halve her speed and arrived in Gotham two days behind schedule, in need of repairs and necessitated Cunard having to pull the old Queen Elizabeth 2 from her regular itinerary to replace the Mary for the next few transatlantic runs, which caused the QE2's schedule to be taken over by yet another ship. Customer Service worked overtime for months to sort it all out and to placate irate and disappointed passengers.

Traveling separately from the Queen Mary, the Atlantean ships, Garth's ship and the three others, plus the tug and two US Navy ships formed an escort and protective mini-convoy to Boston, moving at a crawl. Garth's ship was further slowed by the need for floatation pontoons to keep her from foundering.

Their arrival took four days longer than the Queen Mary's limp back to port and was covered by every media outlet from CNN to AP to UPI to international television networks to the print media, the internet and everyone and their aunt.

"Have you heard from Garth today?"

Dick nodded. "They're going to be even later than they thought; they've hit heavy weather but hope to make it later tonight."

"...And the other Atlantean boats can just submerge but Garth's can't and obviously the tug and the Navy boats are stuck on the surface as well."

"Right. Any word from Arthur, anything new about what this mess is about?"

"Nothing, no—other than to repeat that this is an internal matter and he sees no reason why anyone else is involving themselves beyond humanitarian efforts to help the crew."

"'Sounds like him. What do you think he really thinks, though?"

Bruce put down his coffee cup. "My guess is that he's going to stand back and let Shayeris and Tritonis fight whatever it is they're fighting about then move in and pick up the pieces for his own advantage."

Dick nodded. "Of course, but what's to be gained; land, money, political leverage?"

"Probably a little of each, would be my guess. And Garth's caught in the middle."

"Don't underestimate Garth."

"Garth's weak."

"That's the perception, yes, but he's—not. And he uses that, takes people by surprise when they think he can be counted out. I've worked with him a long time, I know how he gets things done and it's almost never direct, he tends to go through the back door."

"And that works for him?"

"He's survived both being abandoned to death, being raised by Arthur and now he's a king in his own right."

Bruce nodded, Dick was right. Garth tended to be so quiet that he was almost invisible and often overlooked but he was a Titan, a world known figure content to stay in the relative shadows and had, more than once, beaten Arthur at his own game.

The question was just what the current game consisted of what and how high the stakes.

* * *

"Your Majesty, forgive me, but the local media people are requesting that you accommodate them with a few minutes of your time."

"After I check on the injured."

"They're really quite insistent, sir."

"...When I've seen to the welfare of our injured."

"Sir..." The man was cut off with a look borne of five thousand years of royal breeding. After making sure that his men, wounded or otherwise were all safe and being cared for, King Garth agreed to meet with a few representatives of the press once his ship was safely ensconced in a Boston dry dock.

Seated behind a table, glass of water and a full pitcher within reach, his guards standing close by, he began with a statement. His voice was quiet, controlled and accented, though easily understandable.

"I would like to begin by thanking the US Navy for their help and escort to safety as well as the help of The Gray Goose—the tug which brought us here. I'd also like to extend thanks to the Port of Boston and the people of this city for their hospitality and kindness to us in allowing the use of their facilities. Repairs will begin immediately on our vessel and we hope to complete them as quickly as possible. Now, are there any questions?" He nodded to the first man in the second row.

"John Leonard, Boston Globe. Could you comment on the cause of your damage, sir?"

"An explosion of undetermined origin caused both the damage and the injuries to members of our crew."

"And the explosion on board the Queen Mary, is that also of undermined origin?"

A beat and then a level answer. "I had nothing to do with the investigation of that problem, you'd need to ask Cunard; it's their ship."

He indicated a woman in the front row. "Helen Post, ABC. Do you believe that this is the result of internal conflicts in Atlantis, Your Majesty? That's the prevailing rumor."

"We've no proof, though I don't rule it out."

"Then you're saying that there _is_ internal conflict in your country?"

"I'd think that would be obvious. Like any nation we have different factions who feel strongly about various issues, sometimes opinions can become—passionate."

"Peter Cohen, NBC. Are you admitting that Atlantis is engaged in a Civil War?"

"No, I'm not. I'm saying that we have the same problems that many surface nations do. This is a volatile time for us with a number of areas of stress as we start to integrate to a more mainstream position with surface nations. It's not surprising that there is some disagreement."

"Nancy Kann, CNN. S this then an attempt to involve surface in Atlantis' internal problems and are the problems in any personal between you and King Orin; it's known that you two have a difficult relationship."

"Politics are rarely personal, Ms Kann."

The press conference went on for another ten minutes before Garth simply had enough. "Last question." Twenty hands shot up, multiple voices shouted for attention, one breaking through.

"Clark Kent GBS. Could you tell us your position on the treaty with Wayne Enterprises and the US State Department which has been in the news the last few months, sir?"

"I'm in favor of it, now, if you'll excuse me..."

* * *

Back in Atlantis Orin sat in his private quarters watching the video feed from the surface. Garth presented himself well and seemed to have the sympathy of the reporters.

It was a powerful weapon and one which they might well need soon.

* * *

"Garth speaks well, doesn't he?"

Bruce kept his eyes on the screen. "He's gotten the reporters on his side and the crowds at the dock were offering any help they might need. He's good at PR, better than Arthur and that's not going to go over well."

"You think he'll be jealous?"

"Of course. The question is what he'll do about it. He needs Shayeris on his side for the treaties to be worth their full value and he's managed to alienate Tritonis so he'll have to work with Garth."

"'Not one of Arthur's strong points—working with Garth."

"No, but he needs him and he's pragmatic. He'll do what he has to."

Dick turned to look at Bruce for a moment. "There are other ways of getting what he wants other than working with Garth."

"You mean kill him or try to take his throne, go to war?" Bruce had thought about this but discounted it as going too far, even for Arthur.

"You said it yourself, he'll do what he has to to get what he wants."

"What about Tritonis?"

Dick shrugged. "From what I gather they're a weak link in the negotiation; they can be cut loose or bullied out of the way or something. I think is a power play between Garth and Orin and that after Garth's ship was attacked and some of his best and most trusted people killed, the gloves are off."

Bruce reluctantly nodded once. "You may be right and, if you are it's going to be a mess."

* * *

In a room in the American State Department there were about a dozen people also watching the now ended press conference. The overhead lights came back on and they swung their chairs so that they were facing one another across the large table.

"Our position is that this is an internal matter in a foreign country and we don't interfere in such things unless specifically asked."

"And unofficially?"

"Unofficially we have our own interests to look after."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**  
Part Five**

Bruce was using the secure line in the cave. "Arthur, this has your fingerprints all over it; 'you going to let us in on your agenda or is it just the obvious of letting Shayeris and Tritonis kill each other off so you can step in?"

"You'll forgive me for reminding you that I don't answer to you."

"No, you don't, but you do answer to the Justice League."

"You're asking questions about an internal matter which doesn't concern either you or the JLA. I expect the situation to resolve itself soon enough and then all this speculation will be moot, anyway."

"Meaning that you know exactly what's going on."

"Meaning that these things don't tend to drag out for long. Now if you'll excuse me, I have things to attend to." The line was cut.

Bruce nodded to himself. It was what he thought and now the only question was which plan of action would work the best to diffuse this mess.

* * *

In a shipyard adjacent to Boston Harbor the Atlantean ship was pulled up into a now drained dry dock. Atlantean workers both did the work themselves and directed the local shipwrights to help but, as the materials and technology used wasn't familiar to the workers, they were unable to do much more than carry things here and there. The needed work was more extensive than the surface authorities had expected and the estimated repair time would probably extend well beyond the original one week they'd anticipated.

"I'd like to thank the kind people in Boston who are not only helping us in making our ship sound again, but who have generously opened their homes and offered their friendship while we're here in this beautiful city..." Garth was making the usual remarks at an obligatory luncheon he'd been forced into with the Governor, Mayor, two Congressmen, a US Senator and a few other local worthies.

He hated these things and he didn't have either the time nor the inclination to be here when there was so much work to be done and so many of his crew—his friends—were still recovering from serious injury. And he desperately wanted to get away; the bodies of the dead needed to be returned home as soon as possible for burial and, more importantly, he didn't trust the remaining crew's safety to landsmen. There were too many people with access to the shipyards, too many people who knew they were there and too many people who knew that they weren't even close to being at full strength. The possibilities for disaster were simply too many to be overlooked.

"The security here is almost nonexistent, Your Majesty."

"It will be fine." He hoped. And they were doing everything they could to ensure that things would go as planned.

"But sir..."

"It will be fine. Let's just get this thing over with and go back to the ship. What's the estimated finish time?"

"Ten days, more or less."

"Make it less. I don't feel safe here."

An hour later, the affair finally over, all the hands shaken and the pictures taken, they cabbed back to the shipyard. There was what had become the expected gaggle of tourists and curiosity seekers standing around just outside the gates and Garth noticed that there were more than they had come to think of as the usual number.

It was a sunny day and hot, not the kind of weather that water breathers preferred to spend in the open air.

He saw the bustle of men going in and out of the ship, noticed that the pile of materials was changing and seemed to be moving a little everyday as the supplies were used.

Good.

He also was relieved to see that the water purifiers they'd installed around the dock area seemed to be making it easier for his crew to function at some degree of normalcy now that they were filtering the pollutants and general garbage out of the water. The Massachusetts Nation Guardsmen were standing around, making sure that no one could approach the site without permission, alert and appeared to be doing their jobs well.

Yes, so far, so good.

He stepped across the gangway, deafened by the pounding of jackhammers, watching the waterfall of sparks from someone welding, reattaching a broken antenna.

"Sir?" The First officer handed him a clipboard with a list on it, a report of the day's expected mess order from local markets as their own food supply had been destroyed in the initial explosion at sea. Nodding, he signed his approval on the bottom—all done with signals as the work was far too loud for anyone to hear anything beyond unrelenting noise.

Going below deck he turned to his assistant, "Thank the Gods that it's not as loud down here, I don;t know how anyone can work with that."

"And it's been going on for three days now, sir."

"Any word from home?"

"Yes sir, a message just came through a few minutes ago, shall I have it transferred to your cabin?"

"Please." Garth continued down the narrow corridor, pulling the door closed behind him in his tiny space, grateful for a moment of relative peace and the comparative silence. The small light on his communicator started blinking and he pressed the button;

"Yes?"

There was a pause, almost like he was on hold, which stretched on for almost a full minute. Just as he was about to disconnect a voice came through the speaker.

"Why are you exposing our technology to Landsmen?"

The voice was unmistakable, part of his childhood—as much of his childhood as he allowed himself to remember, at any rate—and not always welcome. "The phrase 'any port in a storm' comes to mind, Arthur."

"There's no reason why you couldn't have been towed, if towing was necessary, to one of our own bases. This is indefensible."

"This seemed like the safest choice."

There was a pause while King Orin seemed to either gather his thoughts or count to the proverbial ten. Then, "You've been working with Batman." It was a statement, not a question, his tome was clipped, angry.

"He offered help, I accepted."

"This is unacceptable, I expect you to return to Poseidonis as soon as is possible. When you get here, I expect to see you in my chambers at which time you and I will discuss..."

"When our ship is ready for sea we will depart on our schedule and will make our own heading and course. Now, if you'll forgive me, I've things which need my attention." He broke the link, picturing in his mind the fury he knew he'd just caused on the other end of the line. There would be repercussions for what Arthur would see at impertinence but that was to be expected. Arthur was who he was and would never accept Garth as anything other than his immature foundling, never a king in his own right—certainly not someone to be treated with courtesy or help in any kind of respect.

It would never change.

It didn't matter, not really. "I don't need his approval now any more than I ever did and if he still finds me incompetent, all to the better. The less he'll expect of me."

He moved over and lay down on his narrow bunk for a few moments, hands pillowing his head, looking up at the low ceiling.

"I hate politics, hate the games. 'Hate it." But he had no choice, it was his life, it was what he was born to.

There was nothing for it.

"Forgive me, sir, there's another message coming in for you; from the Tritonian High Ambassador."

Now what? The man was an ignorant prig, arrogant and insufferable but, "Put him though." Heaving himself to his feet, Garth swung back over to the chair he'd just left. "Yes, Excellency?"

"Your Majesty, thank you for being so kind as to allow me to intrude on your time; you're most gracious."

Whatever. "It's my pleasure, what might I do for you?"

"I beg, if it's not too much to ask, for an audience."

Sure, okay, c'mon over. "Of course, it would be my pleasure."

"With the humblest apologies, I wonder if you would grant us the great honor of being so kind as to meet with me at the Atlantean Consulate here in Boston this afternoon?"

"Might I ask why you wish to meet today?"

"To discuss certain mutual—concerns, sir."

Plot against Arthur and Poseidonis? Probably. "Would four be convenient for you, sir?"

"That would be perfection, Your Majesty, I thank you with all my heart and look forward to our meeting."

The line was cut and Garth sighed. He hated politics. Glancing at the clock he saw that it was already almost three-thirty and he'd have to leave now to make the last minute meeting with the Ambassador. He signaled for his assistant to attend. "Please prepare my boat, I have a meeting with Tritonis."

The man looked nonplussed. "Sir, I don't know if this is a good idea. The security is..."

"I'll be fine. Please get the tender ready, I wish to leave at once."

Five minutes later the small craft was pulling away from the dock, their main ship behind them, the sky blue, the breeze light and the sun warm. He'd keep this meeting short, be polite but commit to nothing. It was politics.

The explosion was a physical force of hot wind and debris blown past them, engulfing the small boat and throwing them to the decking. Garth's forehead hit the edge of the seat in front of him, his last conscious thought was that no one could still be alive if they were any closer to the blast.

* * *

"Nightwing, report to Boston stat—join the JLA, the Shayerian ship was just bombed while she was in dry dock. It looks like there's no survivors."

TBA


	6. Chapter 6

**Part Six**

**Conclusion**

_'The Queen Mary the Second was severely damaged this afternoon while at anchor in Gotham Harbor undergoing repairs after a collision at sea with an Atlantean ship earlier this week. While there were no reports of injuries, damage was sustained to the hull below the waterline and the ship is expected to be out of service for at least a month, according to Cunard spokesman._

_In addition and likely in a related incident, a massive explosion today destroyed the Atlantean ship undergoing repairs which had become a tourist attraction for both visitors and locals alike in Boston Harbor. According to Atlantean officials there was heavy loss of life, though search efforts continue in the wreckage for any possible survivors._

_While there was no immediate cause given for the destruction, this reporter was told unofficially that it had to have been caused by an 'outside source', and not by anything which crews were doing on the ship. Bomb squads are working in the area with dogs to determine if anything can be determined before heavy rain moves in later this evening. In addition to Boston Police, agents from the FBI and, we're told, the CIA are involved in resolving this incident._

_A statement was issued from the Atlantean Embassy in Washington a short while ago; (a video tape plays) We are appalled and saddened by this senseless attack on both our people as well as shipwrights who were assisting in the repair of our damaged vessel a few hours ago. Our hearts and prayers go out to the families involved and we resolve to do whatever we can to help them in this tragic time. In addition, we have ordered in our own investigative teams to determine who is responsible for this heinous and unwarranted act of terrorism. (video ends, the camera shifts back to the talking head)._

_Clearly we'll be hearing more about this in the days to come. Diane, back to you.'_

Garth watched the TV news in something close to shock. He'd known that coming to Boston—or any surface port, for that matter, would be a risk but he'd never thought, had no idea that the attack would be so public when it came. The reporter was also wrong about a few things; there was no search effort for survivors because there were none. Every worker, both Atlantean and Surfacer, were accounted for in the body count. They were all dead.

He also knew that the fact that he alone was still alive was no accident. The bomb—and it was a bomb, two of them, to be exact—had been timed for when he'd be safely away from the site.

Arthur, and it had to be Arthur, had planned it well.

Of course it was Arthur. Arthur had everything to gain by this and virtually nothing to lose. By not aligning himself with either Shayeris or Tritonis but still setting them up as rivals for the lion's share of the contracts he could sit back while they killed each other off, potentially placing themselves in a weaker position and then stepping in to pick up the profits.

He could deal with this. He knew Arthur better than almost anyone on the planet, had known him longer and had worked beside him for years. He knew how the man thought.

"This will be fine. He always did underestimate me and, clearly, he still does."

This would be resolved soon, but first he had some things to attend to.

He pressed a button on the intercom device. "Please arrange for transportation. I need to speak with the families of the victims as soon as possible."

"But sir, the danger..."

"I need to do this in person."

"Sir, please..."

"Now, if you would."

"Your Majesty, I beg you; your people can't afford to lose you and should anything happen you'd leave them without a King."

He didn't bother to answer, just gave the man a steady look, eventually he nodded, bowed and left the room to do his King's bidding. A king needed to be available to his people when they needed guidance, support and reassurance. It was part of the job and one he both understood and took seriously. He could be in Shayeris in a few hours and still be back with time to spare for what he had to do here on the surface.

This wouldn't be difficult now that he knew what needed to be done.

* * *

In Justice League's Satellite Batman stood at the head of the table, every line of his body more tense than usual. Almost every member was present, responding to the coded message which had gone out less than five hours before, demanding that they attend a special assembly.

Wonder Woman turned to Superman,not bothering to hide her annoyance. "This is ridiculous, if the Atlanteans can't handle their own problems then they should simply accept the consequences."

"There may be more to this than the obvious, Diana."

She laughed without humor. "Please, Bruce thinks that Arthur is behind these ship bombings to give his own city the advantage in the trade negotiations; it's obvious. And it's even more obvious that Dick may have some hand in calling in the League to help his friend defend his own city."

"We don't know that yet."

"Of course we do and I resent having my time wasted for something that doesn't concern us."

Green Lantern nodded in agreement. "Diana's right, Clark. We have no business getting involved in politics. This will lead to problems if we allow Bruce to get us involved in this kind of thing." There was general agreement around the table, as well as some grumblings at being called in for nothing.

Batman spoke; Bruce Wayne had been left on the planet. "Your attention." All heads turned to him. "You're all aware of what's going on between the city's in Atlantis regarding a potential trade agreement with several surface nations; it's causing internal conflict and has already lead to violence and a number if deaths which will likely continue if we don't act."

"This is horseshit, this isn't the kind of thing we do."

Superman gave him a stern look which went unnoticed. Jonn J'onzz spoke up, saying what they were all thinking. "Oliver is right, Bruce. This isn't our problem and there's no reason why we should become tangled up in this sort of thing. If The Atlanteans want to fight among themselves that's their business so long as it doesn't affect anyone else."

A moment of the Batglare and then Batman used the Batvoice. "It _is_ affecting us. Aquaman is a member of the League so what he does reflects on us—need I remind you that both he and Tempest are kings in their own country? In addition, the fact that an unarmed surface ship was attacked is, in and of itself, an act of war. Preventing war is very much part of our job."

"If the threat comes from space or a super criminal, yes." Green Lantern still wasn't buying this. "There's a UN and NATO and a bunch of other organizations to take care of this kind of thing."

Batman seemed to consider for a moment. "Wonder Woman, you're an ambassador to the UN, as a politician would you be willing to speak with King Orin and King Garth to intercede in what's happening?"

"If they'd be willing to be part of such a summit, of course."

"I'll arrange it. Thank you all for coming." That was it, Batman left the room, headed straight to the transporter and was gone in minutes.

"Damn, that was strange, even for him." Green Lantern was immediately pulling the tab off a beer.

"Really, Ollie, sometimes I think that you really _are _an idiot."

"What?"

Black Canary shook her head. "He set us up to get Diana to agree to act as a go between and make them stop whatever it is they're doing."

"But that doesn't make sense, why wouldn't he just ask her, she'd probably go along with it without us all sitting around watching."

"Because now she can't back out, which she might have done if she could. You know she thinks Arthur is—you know, how he is."

"Huh."

* * *

The meeting was set and agreed to. Wonder Woman, Princess Diana would arbitrate between King's Orin, Garth and Iqula of Tritonis. It had been going on for over five hours through arguments, accusations, threats and, finally, some resolution.

"You know that the Landsmen won't allow this to continue; you'll all lose whatever you stand to gain through trade with the surface and if you provoke them enough, the Landsmen will bomb your cities."

King Iqula blustered with the best of them. "They wouldn't be able to find us and even if they could, we have weapons which..."

Diana held up a bored hand. "Oh, please. You know as well as I do that the rest of the meta-human community wouldn't allow you to do anything which would cause potential problems for the rest of us. Now, are you agreed to work together, split profits, share transport problems and expenses as well as translators, organizational resources, warehouse space and the rest of it?"

Garth was the first to nod. "If the others will sign the contracts between the three cities, I'll sign. I'll also put Shayerian facilities at the disposal of the common good—so long as we're compensated from expected profits."

"Iqula?"

"Fine."

"Orin?"

"I need proof that you won;t go back on this once Diana leaves and we're no longer under close scrutinization from the JLA or any other outsiders."

Garth barely managed to contain his exasperation. "That's why we're signing the treaty, Arthur. Our own security people, as well as sections from the other cities—all the other cities—will be watching and will have power to stop activity if anyone violates the agreements. We've been _over_ this."

"As long as it's all verifiable, I'll—sign."

"Good. Now, if I'd like to thank you all for being reasonable and seeing the mutual advantages to be..."

"Diana, if I may?"

She stopped mid sentence. "Garth?"

"I would like to add a codicil that Lady Mera be excluded from any part in either the treaties, the negotiations or the implement of the final accords."

"You're out of line, _youngster_."

"Orin! Garth, what's the meaning of this?"

He gave Arthur a steady look, refusing to in any way back down or retreat. "That's nonnegotiable of Shayeris can't sign."

"Are you suggesting that the Lady is in any way involved with recent problems?" The threat from Arthur was clear.

"I imply nothing, I simply state facts."

Diana hadn't expected this; she'd thought Arthur and his ex-wife were estranged and that the woman had left Earth for her own planet two years ago. "Your reasons, Garth?"

He tapped a few keys on his personal computer then turned it so the others could see the screen. It showed personal memos and letters between Mera, Arthur, Adnan Khashoggi and others detailing trade in arms between the Atlantean Aligned Cities and arms dealers on the surface to ship large numbers of restricted and highly controlled Atlantean weapons which could be used to largely control worldwide shipping.

"Close reading of these documents proves that the former Queen Mera has made almost all arrangements for large scale arms sales to illegal importers in twenty-three nations, including North Korea, Iran, Pakistan, Afghanistan and China." The silence in the room was very loud.

"Arthur?"

"These are forgeries to bolster his position and slander my former wife. This is insufferable." Arthur did always believe that the best defense is a good offense.

Garth ignored Arthur's interruption. "Furthermore, the weapons they were willing to sell were items which use technology unknown to the surface and so would be impossible for them to defend against."

Diana had heard rumors but Garth was now confirming a major security breech against humanity which had either been orchestrated by or approved by King Orin, a foreign sovereign. "Arthur, do you deny these charges?"

"Of course I do. Show me proof."

"Garth?"

He pulled papers from the leather bag beside him and placed them on the table. "Memos, recordings of conversations, photos of meetings and signed confessions from palace workers in Poseidonis. They verify that Mera was instrumental in conceiving and implementing the initial contacts, negotiations and implementing of both the sales and the coverup. I also have proof that Arthur had full knowledge of the attempt to instigate problems between Shayeris and Tritonis to eliminate these two states from interfering with their plans."

Diana looked through the top few papers. "Arthur?"

"Obvious forgeries by my enemies."

"Garth, how did you come by these?"

"Vulko gave them to me two weeks ago, shortly after he told me that he couldn't be part of Arthur's plans and joined my own council."

For the first time Diana could remember, King Orin looked stunned. He stared at Garth as though he couldn't quite comprehend what had happened.

"Vulko is prepared to swear under oath, if necessary." Garth paused to let this last sink in. "The Cities Council has been meeting since shortly before my ship was attacked and have continued throughout the past week. They'll vote later today to remove you from your throne; if you choose not to accept this ruling then they're prepared to ban Poseidonis from all mutual and intercity activities—you and your people will be shunned."

This was tantamount to a death sentence, or close to it. It meant that there would be no trade between Poseidonis and any of the other Atlantean cities. All exchange would end, no cultural exchanges, no students, no trade, no communication, no contact. They would be alone in the ocean with no help should they need it, they would be considered dead to the others.

"If you accept the ruling and step down, renounce your throne, agree to end all contact with Mera or her people, then aside from your loss of your throne, you may continue as you've been living. You may maintain your membership in the Justice League, remain in your position of Aquaman, retain your citizenship."

Arthur said nothing, seemingly unable to speak.

"Arthur, it's for the best, for everyone." Diana was being kind to him, an old friend. She felt genuine sadness that he'd come to this.

"Mera said that this, that her idea was for the best, too. She was convinced that this would even things out, make it impossible for nations to attack us."

King Iqula had never been a fan of either King Orin or Poseidonis and wasn't impressed by this blatant power grab by a woman who wasn't even from Earth. She may well have this simpering fool under her thrall but that wasn't enough for her misguided plan to be allowed to work. "Giving not just our technology but our most powerful weapons to maniacs and money hungry opportunists was the best thing you could conceive to better relations and guarantee our safety with Landsmen? I've made no secret that I dislike you, but I never though you stupid."

"No, no, you don't understand. If everyone has the same weapons then there's no advantage, there's no point in using them. Don't you see?" He looked from one to another, not seeing the anger and pity. "It would help everyone."

"And Mera would control the flow of the technology? Arthur..."

The reality of the situation slowly dawned on the now former king. He shook his head and stood, looking like an old man and not the picture of health and power he'd been when he'd entered the room. "I accept your offer with my apologies to anyone who's been harmed during this."

The door closed softly behind him, leaving Diana, Garth and Iqula to sort out the details and make the needed announcements and reparations.

* * *

Nightwing sat heavily, exhausted. "That's what all this was about? Arthur was following Mera's plans for her to control things here and in exchange he got her again? Christ. Incredible."

Garth, King Garth felt the same way but didn't have the luxury of recriminations or anger; there was too much to do. Explanations to be made, apologies and restitution given to the victims; the countries, companies and people, the families who'd suffered losses.

"What will happen to him?"

Batman walked into the lighted area of the cave, wondering the same thing himself. The two younger men acknowledged him with silent looks.

"The bridge between Mera's world and here have been severed, all communication has been suspended." He reacted to the surprised looks. "Of course we'll maintain our normal security surveillance."

"And Arthur?"

"He'll recover. He's lost his throne, of course and there's a regent there for now but he'll be all right eventually. It's understood what happened and why he was involved. His activities will be closely watched for a period of time, his work with the Justice League will be curtailed until we're sure that he can handle things and be trusted again." This was stated matter-of-factly.

"So that's it? This whole mess, the damage, the deaths and all the rest of it, was because he wanted his wife back?"

Garth made a gesture of dismissal. "It's not that simple of course, but I suppose it's one way to look at it. In a larger sense he was willing to sell out his own people and sacrifice lives and fortunes, the good will between nations for his own personal priorities. He had to be stopped for the greater good."

"When did you know?"

"Vulko talked to me privately almost three weeks ago. I've known him long enough and trust him so I listened but still had some reservations. When we were attacked and then allowed ourselves to be rammed by the Queen Mary to bring things to the attentions of the surface, I knew he was right."

"You _allowed _yourselves to be rammed?"

"If we hadn't we would have been destroyed and it would have been blamed on a mechanical malfunction or some such, that was the easiest way to diffuse that happening and to ensure that we'd have the help we needed, that Arthur couldn't enact his entire plan, couldn't kill the other kings without notice."

"And now?"

"We try to regain the trust of the surface nations and go on."

"That's it?"

"Politics as usual." It was said with just the slightest trace of bitterness.

4/23/10

37


End file.
